


They Cut Deep and They Don't Heal

by JustSomeSmutHere



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Comfort, Hurt, M/M, PTSD, a sad one folks, cute but sad as fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:16:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeSmutHere/pseuds/JustSomeSmutHere
Summary: You can't go through life almost dying all the time, destroying civilizations and countless lives without it having an effect on you.Part 6 of my c-137cest stories.





	They Cut Deep and They Don't Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little sad drabble about the doubtless mental scarring that Rick and Morty have due to their reckless lives.

Morty gasped as his eyes shot open. Before he could stop himself he was sitting up and examining his arm frantically, making sure it was still there. In his dream it had been, let's say, parted from him. Cold sweat stood out on his forehead and he glanced down to his side, missing a familiar and comforting presence next to him. Why did he always do that? The old man was never there. They never slept in bed together.

He had to remind himself that that wasn't true. It was very unusual for them to sleep together at home but when it was just the two of them in space, that was different.

With a sigh he ran his hand through his hair. His eyes were still heavily lidded as he dragged himself from his bed. He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up more as he crept into the hallway. The boy made his way to Rick's room with careful footsteps, trying to be as quiet as possible. It would be a pain in the ass if anyone were to catch him. It's not as if they would suspect what was really going on, but the thought of having to deal with anyone right now, not something he wanted.

Deft fingers reached out and turned the knob, pushing open the door, silent on its hinges, Rick's forethought.

The room was empty.

Morty's lips pressed together hard, his mouth going thin. The old man was awake too. His heart sank a bit. It wasn't at all unheard of for Rick to have insomnia. But that was before. He knew Rick had been sleeping better lately and he didn't want to admit to himself that it was because of him. That it was because of their altered relationship. He hated to admit but he knew it was true.

He mindlessly made his way to the garage, wondering if any of the other countless Ricks and Mortys had this torrid relationship. It led him to wonder how they were turning out which then led him to thinking about what would happen to him if something were to ever happen to Rick. Cold dread stole over him and he pushed it out of his mind with a shake of his head, rubbing his eyes.

He was standing in the doorway to the garage now.

As expected Rick was bent over some half-cocked experiment or project, working away as usual. There was an unpleasant tang in the air and it wasn't the familiar one of Rick this time. Some sort of chemical concoction was being made here.

Morty trudged over to the old scientist, his heart feeling a bit heavy. The poor guy looked tired but had a sort of manic energy that only paranoia and anxiety could fuel. You couldn't go through the things they did and not have  
some sort of psychological ramifications. It still was upsetting to see.

Rick didn't startle, didn't even budge and Morty knew that the second he'd stepped foot in the garage, Rick knew he was there.

The old man would have ignored him before. Not anymore. He looked up, his eyes a bit solemn, slightly wistful.  
“Hey champ. You too huh?”

Neither of them were under any illusion anymore of why they weren't able to sleep. Rick had been letting his emotions get to him more lately, not denying himself of feeling every little thing anymore. But it wasn't something he was used to and it was beginning to take a toll on him. Morty felt a pang in his stomach. It was his fault. He was thankful however when he realized that Rick wasn't drunk. At least not this night.  
Morty chose his words carefully.

“What are you making?”

Rick sighed and bent over the tubes again, squinting.  
“You ever seen the movie Flubber?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm trying to make Flubber.”

Morty paused, blinking sleepily. He knew the answer but blurted out anyway:  
“Why?”

That was when Rick snapped, irritated at the real reasoning but lying all the same.  
“Because I can.”

Morty's mouth went thin again, his brow furrowing. He reached out and touched Rick's shoulder.

Rick flinched and looked at him.  
“What? Can't a guy try to recreate a fictional serum with semi-intelligent properties and a ridiculous amount of elasticity in peace without his grandson trying to mother him or whatever?”  
His cheeks went pink. Morty knew he appreciated his concern even if he'd never admit it.

“Rick..”  
He squeezed the older man's shoulder.

Rick suddenly looked much older, like an actual old man. He looked his age for once.

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes before placing his hands over his mouth, staring at small burn mark on his desk, not really seeing it.

His eyes flicked back to Morty, weary, cynical, defeated.  
“Alright kid, let's go to bed.”

Morty had his arms around Rick before he could react. He stiffened before letting out a sigh, wrapping his arms around the smaller form that clutched to him. Morty shook. He was crying.  
Rick squeezed and opened his eyes, staring sightlessly at the little burn spot again.


End file.
